


I'm Alive

by thenakednymph



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, BAMF Lance, Dying Lance, Heavy Angst, I promise it will be okay, I'm not using the character death tag because everyone will panic, Langst, M/M, SPOILERS: Lance survives, Sick Character, Sick Lance, Sickfic, Worried Keith, at his own expense, coran is a BAMF, i believe in happy endings, lance is a lying liar, okay, there is a scene where Lance dies but I bring him back in the same chapter, worried coran
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-26
Updated: 2020-02-02
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:20:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22426210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thenakednymph/pseuds/thenakednymph
Summary: Lance is suffering from toxic siltrite poisoning for which there's no cure. He can't keep it a secret forever. But he can try.
Relationships: Keith/Lance (Voltron)
Comments: 86
Kudos: 789
Collections: Voltron Stars🌌





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> If you didn't read the tags please do. There is some heavy angst and a real close call for Lance. He does die in this fic but I bring him back in the same chapter because I like happy endings. But first, suffering.

“...lot faster than I thought,” Lance whispers. The door to the dining room opens and Lance’s mouth snaps shut.

“Oi!” Pidge interrupts, cutting the conversation short. “Quit your gossiping and get in here. It’s time for dinner and you’ve been eating like a bird.” They cross their arms and scowl.

Lance rolls his eyes as Coran hides the syringe in his hand, smiling politely.

“Says the _actual_ bird,” Lance teases, ruffling Pidge’s hair as he walks past them into the dining room. 

Coran follows, quietly pocketing the device and medicine he’d been about to administer to Lance.

He shoots Lance a worried look behind Pidge’s back but Lance waves him off. It’s too late now. 

Pidge makes a loud noise of protest as Lance musses their hair. They kick at Lance as he dances out of reach. 

Hunk gives them both a disapproving look as they reach the table. 

“Hey, no fighting at my table. You know the rules,” he scolds. 

“Lance started it.” Pidge immediately throws him under the bus before flopping into a chair, Lance sitting with slightly more decorum.

“I did not,” he argues indignantly.

“Did too.”

Lance sticks his tongue out at them, ignoring Coran’s watchful eyes. 

Pidge sobers first a moment. “Seriously though, have you been eating?” They cross their arms on the table and stare. “You’re skinnier than I am.” They poke him in the ribs and Lance swats them away. 

“Hey, hands off the goods.” 

Pidge rolls their eyes and digs into the plate Hunk sets in front of them. 

“Manners,” he reminds them before turning his attention to Lance. 

“You do look like you’ve lost weight,” Hunk says gently. 

All eyes are on him and Lance feels his heart race.

“Guys, I’m fine. Seriously.” He lounges back in his chair. “I’ve just been working a little too hard I guess. 

“You know this doesn’t maintain itself.” He gestures to himself, hoping his baggy clothes hide how gaunt he’s become.

Keith snorts next to him. “When? Is everyone else asleep when you’re in the training room?” 

Lance sticks his nose in the air, the jibe stinging. “Says the one who likes to train in _private._ ” He sniffs delicately. “What do you do in there for hours on end?” he asks suspiciously. “Hmmm? Riddle me that Batman.”

Keith makes a face but doesn’t answer. He turns away and Lance counts it as a win but Keith keeps watching him from the corner of his eye. Something is wrong, he just doesn’t know what. 

Lance’s stomach rebels at the heaping plate of food Hunk sets in front of him. He has to swallow back the urge to be sick just looking at it. Maybe he should have let Coran give him the shot; made an excuse or found one to stay in the hall just a second longer.

“Seriously though, eat.” Hunk crosses his arms stubbornly and Lance knows this isn’t going to end well. Hunk has that look on his face he gets when he’s being stubbornly concerned. Lance won’t be getting out from under his watchful gaze until he eats something.

He clenches one fist under the table, digging his nails into his palm and forces himself to lift a spoonful of food to his mouth, chew, and swallow. He nearly gags on it. 

“There. See?” Lance forces a smile. “Tastes great by the way.” It tastes like sulphur and ash. 

Hunk nods, visibly pleased before going to fuss over everyone else.

~

Lance forces down as much as he can before making his excuses for bed. He plays the part well, laughing and teasing as he stands and stretches. His stomach twists like he’s swallowed razorblades. The others tell him goodnight and he waves to them as he heads for the doors. He manages to stay upright until the doors close behind him. The moment they slide shut he’s bowing over, fighting the urge to be sick right then and there. 

Lance breathes slowly through his mouth, clutching his stomach. He limps the rest of the way to his room as quickly as he can. 

His stomach is in outright rebellion and he barely makes it to the toilet before he vomits. He hasn’t been able to keep solid food down without the shot for weeks. Lance heaves up the contents of his stomach whether he wants to or not. He shakes and sweats, feeling the racing of his heart and his breath shortening. His guts are on fire. He keeps expecting to see blood but there isn’t any. At least not yet. 

It feels like hours before Coran slips into the bathroom. 

“Easy lad,” he soothes, sinking down beside him and pushing Lance’s hair back. He administers the shot Lance was supposed to take earlier, setting aside the extra bottle of Altean makeup Lance had asked for. 

“Think it’ll help?” Lance asks weakly and tries to smile.

“I hope so,” Coran says softly, setting the syringe aside. 

“Me too,” Lance manages before he’s curling around the toilet again. His entire body hurts. 

Coran takes a wet cloth and wipes at Lance’s mouth while he pants, running a hand up and down his back. He helps Lance out of his jacket, folding it up and setting it neatly aside. 

“Why won’t you tell them?” he asks softly.

“You know why.” Lance’s throat feels raw, the inside of his mouth sour. The toxic metal in his veins burns, pounding hotly with every beat of his heart. The hardening of the alveoli in his lungs leaves him dizzy and short of breath. 

Coran frowns in disapproval, dabbing at the sweat on Lance’s face as he shakes. The Altean makeup he’s wearing comes away, revealing the sallow color of his skin, the darkened veins to match his arms, the bruises under his eyes. 

“They deserve to know-”

“No.” Lance shakes his head before it makes him dizzy and he has to breathe in and out through his mouth. 

“No,” he tries again. “I don’t want them to see me like this.” Lance’s eyes burn and he sniffles, clammy hands clutching at the toilet. “I don’t want them to see me,” he cries.

Coran pulls him into a hug and Lance clutches at him. Fear grips him tightly and he sobs into Coran’s shoulder. The worse it gets, the more the idea of dying haunts him until it plagues his ever waking moment. 

“I’m scared,” he chokes. 

“I know,” Coran soothes, running his fingers through Lance’s hair. “I’ll give you as much time as I can until we can find a cure.” 

Lance’s fingers flex around Coran’s arm as he focuses solely on not being sick. “What if there isn’t one?” 

“Then I’ll make one,” Coran says firmly. “I will accept no other alternative. We _will_ find a way.” 

Lance tries to smile but in his heart he knows they’re running out of time. 

They spend the rest of the night in the bathroom while Lance’s stomach turns itself inside out. He never tries to eat without taking the shot first again.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith finds out about what's been going on with Lance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who's ready for PAIN!?

The next night, Keith is startled out of his book when there’s a knock at his door. He almost doesn’t answer considering how late it is but finally slides off the bed, padding over in his socks.

The door swooshes open and he’s even more startled to find Lance on the other side. 

“Can I come in?” he asks. There’s something vulnerable in the way he says it and instead of landing a snappy comeback Keith steps back. 

“Sure. What’s up?” It’s late. Lance is usually in bed asleep by now. Especially lately. He’s been spending more and more time either off with Coran or in his room and while the others seem content to let it happen, Keith can’t stop wondering about it.

Lance takes as deep a breath as he can, looking for courage. His fingers flex on the box in his hands before he turns to face Keith.

“I need you to promise me.” Lance looks down at the box, biting his lips. This is harder than he thought it would be. But he’s on a downward slope. He can’t put it off any longer. 

“Promise me you’ll get these to my family.” He tightens his grip on the box, on the tablets inside, each one labeled for a different member of his family. “I’m going to keep adding to them but I need-” His breath catches and he has to take a moment before he can continue, voice steady as he can make it. “I need to know they’re gonna get home.” He holds it out to Keith.

Keith frowns, looking at the box and back at Lance, lifting an eyebrow. 

“Why are you giving them to me?” He crosses his arms over his chest. “Just hand them over when we get back.”

The irony worries at the bruise in Lance’s heart. He clenches his teeth and shoves the box into Keith’s chest. 

“Because space is scary and I might not make it back,” he says gruffly. “There’s no way of knowing when or if any or all of us are ever going to see Earth again and I need to know-”

He lifts Keith’s hands, wrapping them around the box and fighting back tears. His head throbs and rainbows reflect off the corners and surfaces of Keith’s room, making him dizzy. 

He has to catch his breath. “I need to know,” he says softly, hands still pressed over Keith’s. “Please. Just get them home.” 

Keith’s fingers curl around the box, cradling it and Lance feels his stomach turn over with terror and relief all balled up into one. 

He nods rapidly, turning to run from the room before he can break down or vomit or worse.

“Hey.” Keith catches Lance’s arm and holds on, leaning to the side to set the box on his nightstand without letting go, afraid Lance will slip away if he does. 

“What’s going on?” He asks it as gently as he can. “What’s this about?”

Lance shakes his head, still turned half away from him. “I already told you.” It isn’t good enough. 

“You’ve been weird for weeks now,” Keith says trying not to sound accusatory but growing frustrated, coming around to face him. “More so than normal. You look like shit, you’re tired all the time, and your accuracy in training has sucked lately.” He searches Lance’s eyes when they linger long enough but it’s not for more than a couple of seconds. 

“Where’s my sharpshooter at?” He tugs gently on Lance’s sleeve, trying to get him to look at him. 

“Sorry I’m not perfect,” Lance mutters, trying to hide the tears in his voice. 

Keith yanks on his arm to get his attention, turning him back around. “That’s not what I meant,” he says sharply. Worry softens his voice. 

“Lance, you don’t miss. You just don’t.” He shakes his head. “As long as I’ve known you you’ve never not hit what you were aiming for. But yesterday you did.” A furrow pinches between his brows. “And it’s been getting worse. Yesterday was just bad enough the others noticed. You’ve been slipping for months.” His hand slides down Lance’s sleeve to his wrist. 

“And now this?” He looks at the box. “So please. Just tell me.”

Even with his head down Keith can see Lance is crying and it frightens him. 

“Lance?”

His voice is choked and Lance catches on a hiccup. The overwhelming weight of the truth is crushing him. He’s tired of lying, tired of fighting and pretending. 

“I’m dying.”

For a moment Keith doesn’t understand, the words spinning in his ears but not making sense. Lance looks up, trying to focus through the haze, to find Keith’s eyes. They help anchor him. 

“I’m dying, Keith.” His breath rattles in his chest, shallow and wet. He can feel the metal in his lungs. “And there’s nothing I can do about it.” 

Keith is reeling. 

“What?”

Lance sniffles, covering his eyes with a hand, trying to hide the oncoming breakdown. 

“That planet, the one I got hurt on? The blade was poisoned with siltrite. It’s like a living metal,” he says softly, words thick and hitching. “It’s replicating in my system, attacking my organs. 

“I can barely breathe, I haven’t been able to keep solid food down for weeks, and I get these headaches.” He rubs at his temples with a wince. “My vision is starting to go. I’m not gonna be able to keep it a secret much longer.” He drops his hand, tears sliding down his face. “I’m not gonna make it home. I’m dying.”

Keith feels himself go ashen. The world under his feet tips and he doesn’t realize he’s falling until he hits the mattress, his grip on Lance bringing him down beside him as the world spins. 

“Coran’s the only one who knows,” Lance says softly. “There’s nothing he can do.”

Keith barely hears the words through the echo in his ears. He sways where he’s sitting and for a moment he’s afraid he’s going to pass out. 

“H-how long?”

Lance’s hand has slipped into his own and Keith holds on so tightly his knuckles are white. 

“Three months…” Lance says slowly. “Two months ago.”

Keith whirls on him, his heart kicking into overdrive. “What?”

Lance can’t bring himself to look at him. “And I’ll probably spend the last part of it bed-ridden.”

Keith’s eyes are wide as he does the math. “What about the pods? Can’t they-?”

Lance is already shaking his head. “We tried. It slows the metals progress by repairing the damage but not pushing it back.” His eyes are heavy. “Just makes it hurt more. Makes the pain last longer.”

“But couldn’t it buy you more time?”

“Not enough to matter.” 

“It matters to me.” Keith’s voice goes high with distress. 

Lance’s mouth pulls in a weak smile. “It might have bought me a day or two in the end. But it’s like every day I take three steps towards the grave. The pods only give me maybe one back at the most. If that.” He shakes his head again. “It wouldn’t have mattered.”

Keith touches his cheek. “That’s one more day I could have had.” 

Lance tries to smile but his heart is heavy. He lets the exhausted tears fill his eyes, lets himself feel the full brunt of the pain that never leaves him. 

“I’m tired Keith.” The words come out thick and weak. “Everything hurts.” His head tips into Keith’s palm as the tears slide past his lashes. 

Keith watches the way Lance sags, the bow of his once wide shoulders under a jacket that doesn’t sit as high as it used to. 

Shadows pool under Lance’s eyes and cheeks that weren’t there before, the silver flecks he now has in his irises threatening to take over his pupils. His lips are dry, the jut of his chin more prominent than it used to be. 

For the first time Keith can see how far Lance has deteriorated. He’s done a good job of hiding it but now that Keith knows what to look for, he can see it: death hiding in between the seams Lance is struggling to hold together.

Keith swallows thickly, the full scope of what’s happening hitting him. He’s being selfish. 

“Okay.” 

“I didn’t know how to tell you.” Lance crumples, hiding his face behind a hand as he cries. “Any of you.” He chokes on the words and Keith squeezes his hand. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Keith feels his throat close up and his own eyes are burning. 

“What are you sorry for? I didn’t-” He pulls Lance into a hug, staring blindly at the wall as Lance cries into his shoulder. 

His hands fist in Lance’s jacket as if to keep him there, as if it will fix everything. 

This all feels like a nightmare. One he desperately wants to wake up from. 

“No.” The word is so soft it gets lost in Lance’s hair as memory after memory washes over him. Every regret, every moment, every chance. Everything he could have done or said differently. Everything he won’t get a chance to fix. 

For a moment they lean into one another, using their connection like a lifeline in the chaos of pain and fear and grief. 

Keith finally pulls away, shaking his head in denial. 

“No. You can’t be.” He stares at Lance who looks haggard and wan, the tears draining him. “You can’t be,” he whispers and it sounds like a plea. “You’re- you’re Lance. You’re supposed to be indestructible!” 

“I’m only human Keith.”

Keith stands and begins pacing the room, tugging at his hair. 

“No, this is bullshit!” He whirls on Lance. “There has to be a way.” 

Lance is too tired to fight. Too close to the end to live in denial. “There’s not.”

“There has to be.” Keith’s voice is pained with desperation. 

Lance sags forward, elbows on his knees and he watches Keith through hazy eyes. 

“Are you gonna keep yelling or are you going to come over here and kiss me?” he asks sounding as tired as he looks. 

Keith stands frozen, staring at him wide-eyed. His heart leaps into his throat, hope tainted by the circumstances. 

Lips thinning he steps forward and Lance opens for him, spreading his knees and sitting up as Keith leans down. 

When he kisses Lance he imagines he can feel him dying, taste it on his lips. He cradles Lance’s face in his hands, tipping his head up until Lance parts his lips, inviting Keith’s tongue into his mouth. Keith goes willingly, kissing Lance deeply, like he’s starving for it. Lance’s head is craned back, his fingers on Keith’s hips, pulling him closer. 

Their tears mingle and Keith finally breaks the kiss with a sob. 

Lance pulls him down into his lap, just holding him. Keith hides his face in Lance’s shoulder. 

“I don’t want you to go.”

Lance runs his fingers through Keith’s hair, over his cheek, down his arm to trace the veins in his hands, just needing to touch. 

“I know.” He presses a kiss to the top of Keith’s head. “I’m sorry this is what it took for me to tell you.” 

Keith sits up, wiping at his face. “I’m not going to to let you die.” 

Lance has always admired Keith’s fierce determination but he’s tired of fighting. He cups Keith’s cheek, thumbing away his tears, knowing there’s no point in talking about it.

“Just stay with me. Please?” He doesn’t have the strength for anything else. 

Keith feels frustration building like a static storm. He wants to move, to hit something, to run. But he can’t. So he swallows thickly before lying down. He takes Lance with him, holding him with shaking hands.

He forces himself to take several slow, deep breaths. 

“Show me,” he says softly.

“Keith…”

“Please.” His eyes are pleading and his grip on Lance’s hand tightens. “I need to know.”

Lance winces. “It isn’t pretty.”

Keith touches his cheek. “I don’t expect it to be.”

After a moment Lance pushes up the sleeve of his jacket, the makeup fading past his wrist. The cut on his forearm is bright silver, sharp edges of metal rigid around the sides. The inside of the wound is black.

“Don’t touch it,” Lance warns. “I don’t want you getting cut too. I haven’t bandaged it this morning."

Keith pokes at the skin around the injury that hasn’t changed yet. He can feel it grow firm the closer he gets.

“It’s rigid?”

Lance nods, his hair mussing across the pillow but not in the way Keith has fantasized about. 

“The metal is hardening my veins, changing me. Eventually it will affect enough of my organs my body will shut down.” He shrugs one shoulder. “That or I’ll finally suffocate or my heart will stop. It’s a race to see what gets me first.” He tries to laugh but it isn’t funny.

Keith’s fingers gently trace over the darkened veins of Lance’s arm down to his hand where they vanish. 

He frowns in confusion. “I don’t understand.”

Lance’s smile is wan. “There’s not much Altean foundation won’t hide,” he says wryly.

Keith’s heart sinks and his mind runs in circles imagining all the ways Lance actually looks under the makeup. He touches a shaking hand to Lance’s cheek, eyes flicking over Lance’s features, trying to find more of those dark veins. 

There are dark circles peeking out from under his eyes from the tears and Lance knows he’ll have to cover them up again before he leaves.

Keith’s lips thin, his fingers trailing over Lance’s cheek, following the faint tear tracks down to his throat. He hesitates, meeting Lance’s eyes, asking for permission before dipping below his shirt. 

Lance cranes his head to the side as Keith pulls on his collar, baring more of his skin. His chest is a lattice work of veining, his skin ashen and tinted blue from lack of oxygen. Keith feels panic shorten his breath and he reaches for Lance’s face trying to rub away the foundation. He needs to know how bad it is if Lance’s chest looks like that. Lance catches his hand to stop him and brings Keith’s fingers to his lips, dropping a kiss there. 

Keith seems to understand and smooths Lance’s collar back before settling next to him. 

They spend the next few hours together just talking, sharing secrets and stories they never had the chance to. Lance elaborates on his symptoms and timeline before Keith falls silent. His fingers trace idle patterns over Lance’s arm, pressing at the dark veins and feeling them through the skin.

“You have to tell them,” he says softly.

Lance presses his nose to Keith’s chest, breathing him in. “I can’t.”

“You have to.” Keith argues, his voice turning heated. He sits up, forcing Lance to look at him. 

“Do you know what I would have spent all this time doing if you’d told me this two months ago?” he demands. “This!” He gestures between them. “Us! But we don’t get to because you couldn’t find a way to tell me.” His chin trembles, shoulders sagging. “And I was too much of a coward to ask when I should have.” 

The fight seems to go out of him all at once and he sinks onto the bed, taking Lance’s hand. 

“You’re robbing them of their chance to help,” he says softly.

“They can’t,” Lance whispers. 

“Then you’re stealing their chance to say goodbye.” He lifts Lance’s chin, searching his eyes. “You robbed us of our time with you.”

It’s not quite an accusation but it feels like one and Lance’s heart drops.

“I’ll try,” he promises.

An alarm dislodges them from any further conversation and they roll out of bed. Lance bolts for the door, Keith yanking on his shoes.

“The hell do you think you’re going?” Keith demands, shoving his foot into one boot.

Lance gapes at him. “To help.”

“You are dying,” Keith hisses as if someone else might hear him over the alarm. 

“Well I’m not dead yet,” Lance snaps. “Don’t put me in my grave until I’m good and ready.”

Keith grabs his arm, trying to get him to stop.

“You said you can barely breathe and your vision is shit.”

“I can see just fine,” Lance argues, yanking his arm free. It’s a lie and they both know it. 

“You can’t go out there,” Keith argues, letting Lance go.

Lance turns a venomous look on Keith as he steps out into the hall. “Don’t you ever tell me what I can or can’t do,” he hisses and then he’s gone.


	3. Chapter 3

Lance grabs Coran as the others run past him for the bridge. He drags him to a halt as the team leaves him behind, making sure they’re out of earshot. 

“Can you keep me on my feet?”

“You shouldn’t be out of bed,” Coran scolds, already trying to shove Lance back down the hall toward his room. “You’re sick-”

“Can you keep me on my feet!?” he shouts, grip tightening on Coran’s arm. Like hell he's going back to bed now, not when they’re about to go into battle. The team needs him. 

Coran purses his lips, coming as close to a scowl as Lance has ever seen. He knows if Coran wanted to he could force him to stay but this time he backs down. Lance knows next time he won’t.

“Yes,” he says finally. He pats Lance’s hand. “There’s a stimulant in the medbay. It will help but I do not know what it will do to a human and coming down will not be comfortable.”

“Just get me out there.” He shoves Coran down the hall. “Hurry.”

Lance scrambles into the room, Keith making eye contact but Lance shakes his head, taking his place with the team and Keith holds his tongue. 

Coran slips back inside several minutes later, hands behind his back. No one but Lance notices.

Allura briefs them quickly before they’re all running for their lions, Lance faking it to avoid suspicion before doubling back, turning to Coran and yanking off his helmet. 

Coran depresses the syringe in the side of Lance’s neck, pumping him full of the stim and then another dose of suppressant in the hope it will help. Coran’s created a whole regimen of treatments for him over the last two months. 

Lance shoves his helmet back on.

“What in-”

“Not now Allura.” Lance covers the small wound in his neck with a hand, trying to stop the minor bleed. “I’ll explain later.” He looks at Coran who’s frowning with disapproval, syringe still in hand but Lance is already backing towards his zipline. “Thank you.”

“Be safe,” Coran says, worry creasing his eyes. 

Lance nods, blood on his fingers as he reaches for the zipline. “I’ll try.”

 _“Lance where are you?_ ” Pidge demands, voice cracking sharply through his helmet. 

“I’m coming!”

_“Well hurry up!”_

Lance launches himself for the zipline, leaving a worried Coran and a confused Allura far behind. 


	4. Chapter 4

Lance manages to keep it together through the fight but by the end of it he can feel the stim beginning to wear off. He doubles down on his focus and tries to end the conflict as fast as he can, knowing he isn’t going to last. Keith hovers but backs off when Lance snaps at him.

By the time it’s over and they dock, his vision is beginning to fuzz and his pulse is pounding in his ears. He makes it to the bridge and hovers in the back of the room as they debrief. Lance's vision doubles, words distorted and echoing, and he’s flushed with cold. It’s hard to breathe and his heart is beating so hard it hurts. 

His equilibrium shifts and Lance gropes blindly for the wall with shaking hands but it’s too far away. 

Rainbows burst over everything, blinding him and Lance trips over his feet as he tips sideways, his knees turning to rubber. 

“Coran…” he manages, the word slurred and the only warning he manages before he falls. 

Coran darts forward, catching him and hauling Lance into his arms. 

“Lance!” Allura sees him fall, drawing the attention of the other paladins and they all turn to stare in surprise. 

Lance has gone limp, his head hanging over Coran’s arm exposing the line of his throat, damp with sweat and a patch of dried blood. 

Coran carries him from the room, hurrying to the medbay to stabilize him, the others following. 

“What is going on?” Shiro demands but Coran ignores him, placing Lance on a bed. The paladins are all crowded around, trying to find out what’s wrong but Coran shoos them away as they try to hover. 

“Either help or get out of the way,” he says gently, pushing them back. 

Pidge steps up, already running scans as Keith and Hunk start stripping Lance out of his armor. Coran pulls up the tablet of Lance’s vitals, monitored through the bracelet on his wrist. 

There are a number of flashing warnings and he scrambles to grab what he needs. Keith strips Lance of the body suit, Hunk moving the armor away from the bed as Coran hooks Lance up to oxygen. 

There are a number of horrified gasps and murmurs as the suit is peeled away. Lance is thin, shadows between his ribs where they shouldn’t be. Keith pinches the material of his suit between his fingers, distraught to find it more heavily padded to simulate Lance’s silhouette. He fights back the urge to cry and sets the undersuit aside as Shiro pulls the sheet up. 

Keith can barely stand to look. The veins he’d caught a glimpse of cover Lance's entire body, darkening his extremities, tipping them blue from lack of oxygen. He knows now Lance’s trend of painting his nails is to hide that. Used in tandem with the makeup he still looks healthy. Beyond that he’s ashen and wan.

Coran injects Lance with another booster and something to help him stabilize, the warnings on his tablet finally fading after a moment and his shoulders sag with relief. He wipes sweat from his forehead and stands back, staring at Lance where he’s asleep on the bed. 

“What the hell was that?” Pidge snaps. “What _happened_ to him?” Their eyes keep darting back and forth between Coran and Lance lying on the bed. For all intents and purposes he looks like a corpse. 

Allura takes Coran’s arm, guiding him into a chair Shiro brings over. His head drops into his hand. He’s gone ashen. 

“I knew I shouldn’t have listened to him.” His voice is small and raw. 

Coran takes a shaking breath before lifting his head, looking years older. “He asked me not to tell you.” There are tears in his eyes. 

“Tell us what?” Allura’s features are pinched with disapproval. 

“He’s dying.” Everyone turns to Keith, pinning him to the spot. “Siltrite poisoning,” he says softly. “It’s killing him.”

Pidge frowns. “Siltrite? Like that planet where everything was made of metal?” They adjust their glasses and Keith nods. 

“Turns out it’s poisonous to humans,” he explains. “When Lance was cut it got into his blood and started replicating.” He clenches his teeth for a moment before forcing himself to relax his jaw. “It’s attacking his organs.” Coran nods heavily from the chair but doesn’t add to the conversation.

Shiro’s eyebrows come together in confusion. “How do you know all this?”

“He told me just before the alarm. There wasn’t time to...” Guilt pulls Keith's gaze away and he doesn’t finish. 

“How long has this been going on?” Allura demands, scowling between them. “That was phoebs ago.”

“He asked me not to tell you,” Coran says again, pinching his eyes and drawing everyone's attention back around. “He shouldn’t have been out there today.” His voice thickens and he swallows. “But he wouldn’t take no for an answer.”

“Is that what happened earlier on the bridge?” Allura snaps, hands on her hips and Coran nods. His eyes are distant and he doesn’t look up from the floor. 

“I gave him a stim. I told him it was dangerous but he didn’t care.”

“Lance is stubborn,” Keith says, trying to draw some of the disapproval away from Coran. He may not have agreed with Lance’s decision not to tell them, but it was his secret to keep. And one Keith will defend. 

Coran slowly lifts his head until his eyes meet Keith’s. 

“There’s nothing you could have done to stop him from being out there today,” Keith says softly. “If anything you made sure he didn’t get hurt by ensuring he stayed on his feet.”

Coran tries to smile but it’s weak and there are tears in his lashes. “Perhaps. But I fear I have only made him worse.” 

Allura looms over him, arms crossed, and frowning in disapproval. She glares between both Keith and Coran.

“Explain. Now.”

~

Between the two of them, Keith and Coran explain what’s been going on. Coran holds little back. It’s obvious keeping this secret has been a burden but Lance had sworn him to secrecy. 

Allura’s rage softens until she’s sitting on the bed next to Lance, gently washing the foundation from his skin. Her lips are pressed into a thin line of disapproval but her eyes are sad. 

She smooths Lance’s hair across his forehead, the painkillers Coran had given him keeping him unconscious. 

“I’m afraid we’re nearing the end,” Coran says softly. “There is too much metal in his lungs for him to efficiently convert the oxygen he needs to his blood.” His hands flex at his sides, guilt dragging on him. 

“I couldn’t help him,” he whispers and Keith realizes he’s crying. “I’m just killing him.” Before Keith can react Allura is rising from the bed, pulling him into her arms. 

“You did the right thing.” 

Coran makes a small distressed noise, like nothing Keith has heard from him before. He looks small in Allura’s arms as he cries and she runs a hand over his hair, hushing him gently. 

“You did not fail him,” she whispers. “This was his decision to make.” She smiles, wiping the tears from his cheeks. “He was lucky to have you.” 

Coran sniffles. “I wish there was more I could have done.” 

“You did all you could,” she reassures. 

After a moment Coran nods and Allura withdraws. She sits on the bed again, pulling Coran’s chair closer so she can hold his hand. 

“What are we looking at?” she asks. Her tone is still soft but with a serious note to it, all business. “What’s his timeline like now?”

“Not long. The stimulant I gave him today was meant for Alteans in battle. It wasn’t something I thought he would need so I never modified it for his physiology.” His eyes drift to Lance, breathing shallowly in the bed. “It seems to have further weakened his system.” Allura squeezes his hand. 

Coran takes a steadying breath. “He should stay in bed, preferably on medicine to help him cope with the pain.” His eyes are heavy. “Other than that…” He shakes his head slowly. “I’m afraid there’s nothing else we can do.”

Pidge is curled into themselves, angry tears in their eyes. Their fingers clench against their arms, dragging red lines across their skin. 

“How could we not have noticed? Why is _this_ what it took?” They gesture angrily to the bed. 

Hunk steps up and places a hand on their shoulder. “Lance has always been an excellent liar,” he says gently, the words meant for both Pidge and everyone else. “You are not a bad friend for not noticing.”

Keith can’t help but wonder if that’s true. 

Coran nods. “We did what we could to fool you all for as long as we could.” His voice tightens and he has to clear his throat before going on. “He didn’t-” He twirls his mustache, fighting for composure. “He didn’t want you to see him going through this.”

Hunk tries to smile. “If there’s something Lance doesn’t want you to know, trust me, you won’t. He was always a very talented actor.” He squeezes Pidge’s shoulder and they lean into his side for comfort. 

“So what, we just...wait for him to die?” 

Coran’s lips thin in apology. “There’s nothing else _to_ do.” 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're almost there kids. Hang on.

Over the next few days Lance’s condition rapidly deteriorates. He loses his vision completely, his mind fuzzing. It’s difficult for him to concentrate or hold a conversation for very long. 

He does his best to answer what questions he can but Coran keeps him on a heavy dose of painkillers. The only thing he can do is try to make Lance as comfortable as possible. 

Allura had taken them to a small out of the way planet, hiding the ship in the atmosphere as best as possible. The last thing any of them need or want is to fight another battle. 

There’s a somber hush over the entire ship. It gets under Keith’s skin and itches until he feels ready to scratch himself raw. A private space had been converted for Lance, decorated with his favorite things before he lost his eyesight. Something more personal and less cold and sterile looking than the med bay. 

Keith can barely stand to be in the room, watching Lance’s chest slowly rise and fall, but being anywhere else is worse. He counts the minutes by Lance’s heartbeat, anxiety in every slow thump as he wonders if that will finally be the last. 

Today is no different except the itch has increased tenfold. Keith’s skin feels blistered, splitting and bubbling, pulling away from him and Keith can’t take it. 

It’s one of those few times where Lance is awake and Keith sees him smile. His lips are blue, the skin dry and cracked.

“Hey Samurai,” he rasps. 

Keith goes to stand by the bed, lifting the cup of water sitting nearby for Lance to drink from the straw. 

Lance chokes, struggling to swallow and Keith sets the cup aside, wiping at Lance’s mouth when he coughs. It takes him a moment to catch his breath. Once he does Keith sinks gently onto the bed. 

“How’d you know it was me?” 

Lance’s hand bumps weakly against his own.

“Could hear you breathing,” he says, the words shallow and weak. 

Keith holds his hand, wincing at how cold it is. When he doesn’t answer Lance squeezes his fingers. 

“Hey...don’t forget about your promise.” 

Keith feels like he’s been stabbed. He tips his head back and stares at the ceiling, blinking away tears. 

“Yeah.” His voice comes out thick. “I remember.” He kisses Lance’s knuckles. “I’ll get them home.” 

Lance seems placated and sinks into the pillow, his eyelids fluttering. “Gotta say...was really hoping to be somewhere else for this,” he mumbles. 

Keith wipes at his lashes and takes a deep breath. “What do you mean?”

Lance’s head lolls in the direction of Keith’s voice, his eyes slipping closed. “...miss the sea,” he whispers. “Miss home. Miss rain.” His nose wrinkles and he clears his throat. “Smells like dust and death in here.” 

Keith’s heart pounds a staccato rhythm, gravity dragging on him heavily. 

“...never did find any rain…” 

Keith flinches. All he can think about is Lance’s final moments being in this awful room. Their reality is ugly. What’s happening is ugly. And Lance deserves beauty. Deserves better. If he can’t save him the least Keith can do is take him somewhere else. Anywhere else. 

Tears choke him and Keith shakes his head. “We’re not doing this.” He begins disconnecting Lance from the various machines, wrapping him in a blanket. 

Lance’s eyes blink open. There’s a milky sheen of silver over them and Keith hates it, misses the blue he’d never taken the time to appreciate.

“Keith?” Lance’s voice is a dry rasp, nothing like the vibrant sound Keith is used to. His hands flutter, seeking purchase as Keith lifts him into his arms. He doesn’t have very long. 

“What’s going on?” 

Keith hauls him upright, adjusting Lance’s weight before carrying him from the room. He’s featherlight in Keith’s arms.

“I’m taking you to see the rain,” he says stubbornly.

Lance’s eyes are distant as his head rests against Keith’s shoulder. Keith’s footsteps echo down the hall as he marches towards the hangars. 

“Keith…” Lance blinks, tears slipping free and Keith can feel them dampen his shirt. “I can’t see.” He closes his eyes, tucking his face to Keith’s neck, breathing him in and trying not to cry. 

Keith holds him closer. “I know. But I’m not going to sit here and watch you die.” 

Lance grips his shirt weakly and Keith can feel him smile. 

“You can’t fight this,” he whispers. “It’s not something you can beat with a sword.”

“Shut up,” Keith breathes, voice soft, his breath ruffling Lance’s hair. “I’m taking you to see the rain.” 

Lance squeezes his eyes shut, crying against Keith’s throat and struggling to hold on. There isn’t much time left. 

“Okay.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I promised you a happy ending and I'm here to deliver. Hang in there kids.

Lance can hear the rain against the hull as the shuttle lands. 

“Hold on,” Keith says softly and a moment later the shields are dropping, rain falling into the cabin. He pulls Lance into his arms, nearly falling as he struggles to carry him to the ground. He goes a few feet before sinking to the wet earth, cradling Lance in his lap. He keeps panting, trying to draw breath that isn’t enough.

They’re both soaked and Keith pushes wet hair out of his face as Lance extends a hand. Rain splatters over his palm, sliding down his arm and dripping from his fingers. He’s shaking in Keith’s arms as he cries, tipping his head back into the rain. It smells so much like Earth it’s easy to pretend they’re home. 

Keith’s soaked to the skin in minutes, goosebumps rippling over his arms and Lance blindly feels for Keith’s face, wishing more than anything he could see him. His head pounds, the pressure on his chest building.

There’s a wide smile on his mouth, his lips cracking. “Thank you.” 

Keith presses into his hands before leaning down and kissing him and Lance can taste the rain. 

His hand falls away and Keith feels the moment Lance stops breathing. He can feel his own heart stop when Lance’s does and Keith wants to scream. His arm slips around Lance’s back and he buries his face in Lance’s neck, crying and pulling him to his chest.

“Please...please don’t go.” His fingers curl painfully against Lance’s body. “Please don’t leave me.”

There’s a rustling in the large fuchsia plants and curling ferns all around them, a figure stepping out from them. Keith lifts his head, water dripping from his hair. The figure stares at him, woven from threads and lines of light, glowing like the fauna and they tip their head, watching curiously. 

Keith hiccups, too devastated to do anything but cradle Lance in his lap. 

The figure trills curiously, kneeling down across from him. Their fingers card through Lance’s hair, water spilling down his face.

“Can you help him?”

The figure makes another small noise. There’s a flash of light, like the edge of a blade and a cut appears on the side of Lance’s arm across the original wound, bleeding sluggishly. The figure puts their hands to either side of Lance’s head, fingers fading at the tips. They draw their hands slowly from Lance’s head down his face to his throat. Silver liquid spills out of the cut in thick pulses, pooling on the ground beneath them as the entity moves down Lance’s arm. 

Keith expects something marvelous, a miracle maybe. But Lance is still cold and unmoving in his arms.

“No. No no no.” Keith scrambles to lay him down, to begin chest compressions but Lance’s lungs are too damaged. 

The alien touches Keith’s arm as he fights to bring Lance back, cooing to try and soothe him. The sound does something to him, makes him relax against his will. He sits back and the alien begins to hum. The flora all around them begins to answer, humming in tandem. Lights glow from the leaves, the roots, the flowers, everything and Keith feels the earth shift beneath him. 

Moss begins to creep up over Lance’s body until he’s buried under it. 

“No…” Keith tries to dig him back out but the alien touches his hand, cooing gently. “Please,” he whispers. 

The alien trills one last time before sitting back and closing their eyes. They go back to humming and Keith sits back, letting the rain soak through him as Lance vanishes. 

~

They sit there for hours. Keith doesn’t know how long but long enough his fingers go numb and he shakes with cold. He loses feeling in his legs but can’t make himself move. He can’t leave. 

Every time he tries to say something the alien gently hushes him. 

Finally Keith lays down beside the burial mound, one hand over where he thinks Lance’s heart might have been. 

The cold lulls him into a doze, one filled with flowers the same color as Lance’s eyes and a low hum that sounds like laughter. 

When he wakes the rain has stopped. A light mist permeates the air and in spite of being wet, Keith feels warm. 

The mound under his hand rises gently, up and down, following a deep beat Keith can hear in the earth. 

He opens his eyes and snaps upright, his head spinning. 

“What’s happening?”

The alien’s light, warms to a soft gold. 

The moss on the mound begins to wither and turn brown. The husk cracks open and falls away, leaving Lance exposed, chest slowly rising and falling. 

Keith can’t breathe. “I’m dreaming.” He shakes his head, unable to take his eyes off Lance. “He’s gone. I- I felt him _die._ ” Tears drip from his chin as he looks to the alien. Their white light warms again and they gesture back to Lance. 

When Keith looks he’s met with the striking blue of Lance’s eyes. All the breath is punched out of him.

“Hey Samurai.” 

Keith sobs, covering his face with a hand. 

Concerned, Lance sits up, reaching for him. The moment he touches Keith, Keith yanks him into a hug. 

“How?” he chokes. “I-” He’s hyperventilating. “This isn’t possible.” 

Lance hushes him. He’s warm where Keith holds him, heart beating firm and heavy in his chest. There’s a healthy flush to his skin that hasn’t been there in months and for the first time Lance can take a full, deep breath. There’s no pain, no poison darkening his veins and Lance turns to look at the alien. 

“Thank you.” 

They nod before rising and vanishing into the jungle. 

Keith shivers, drawing Lance’s attention back. Lance squeezes him, running a hand over Keith’s back. 

“I don’t know. But this place is alive.” He sits back and pushes Keith’s hair out of his face. “It...fixed me. Rebuilt me. I don’t know how, I just know I’m glad to be here.” He cups Keith’s cheek with a hand, trying not to cry. 

“You look terrible by the way,” he teases. “I thought I was the one dying.”

“Shut up.” Keith drags him into a kiss, one Lance is eager to sink into, one that isn’t tainted with death.

Keith kisses him like it’s the last time he’ll be able to and Lance coaxes him gently into slowing down, offering comforting touches and whispered reassurances. 

“It’s okay,” he soothes, his lips catching against Keith’s. “I’m here. I’m right here.” He can feel Keith’s tears on his skin. 

Lance sits back and wipes them away before kissing Keith’s cheeks and then each of his eyelids. 

Keith’s heart slowly steadies and he holds Lance’s hand to his cheek. 

“We’ve got all the time in the world now, Samurai. I’m alive.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You made it!!!! I hope that made up for all the pain.


End file.
